While one could certainly be forgiven for assuming, as I did, that The Apartment would be a cheery, brisk, rom-com suitable for a lazy Sunday afternoon–they would in fact be wrong. So fucking wrong.

First off, Jack Lemmon bears a striking resemblance to a recent ex-boyfriend of mine who is a prick and a fuckboi. So right off the bat I hate him. Anytime I see Jack Lemmon’s smug fuckboi face on screen I want to vomit.

But fine, fair enough, anti-heroes are all the rage in 2015, I get that. But, unlike a Tony Soprano or Walter White, writer/director Billy Wilder does absolutely zero to humanize this fuckboi in any way whatsoever. From beginning to end Jack Lemmon remains the same fucking fuckboi tip to taint. Learning nothing. Experiencing nothing. Doing nothing.

Jack Lemmon is a fuckboi insurance salesman in New York City, who just like every basic fucking idiot, is looking for a leg up to climb the corporate ladder (as if there is no other important thing in life). To this end, Jack the fuckboi Lemmon allows the executives in his office free reign of his apartment for their extra-marital affairs–Like, what the fuck? Stop bringing the office home with you every day! There is more to life than your fucking job Jack Lemmon you phenomenal fuckboi! Get some perspective! Spend time with people you care about!

Now sure enough, fuckboi Jack Lemmon is in love with this beautiful, phenomenal–and honestly way too good for him–elevator operator named Fran (played by the gorgeous Shirley MacLaine). She’s sexy and smart and everyone tells her that she can do better than Jack fuckboi Lemmon and why is she even with him, and really, she should have listened to her friends.

So Fran’s dating this handsome and wholesome man who, even though he is married and obviously another in her long line of fuckbois, is still one thousand percent less of a fuckboi than Jack Lemmon. Anyway, they are having a great affair until she starts catching feelings for the flying fuckboi, Jack Lemmon–which is something she always does and something she needs to start being more aware of so she can start treating herself better.

Anyway, Fran tries to commit suicide which, look, who wouldn’t rather kill themselves than face their own horrendous history with fuckbois? But nonetheless, guess who’s right there to hang around and be “supportive” and in general be completely oblivious to what a fucking skeeze he’s being? You guessed it! Our dear, dear, motherfuckboi–Jack Lemmon.

Anyway, of course she buys his whole “thing” because she’s young and foolish. And they end up together in the end. That’s it. There you have it. Jack Lemmon, noted fuckboi, is the same fuckboi at the end as he is in the beginning. He learned nothing and his fuckboi ways were actually rewarded by getting the girl of his dreams. Like what kind of twisted, out of touch, fuckboi logic is this Billy Wilder? It’s 2015!

I will say, the neighbors provide good comic relief and it seems like they have a nice, stable, relationship. So, I dunno, whatever, 1.5 stars. This movie can go to hell.

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